


Closer To Me

by grapefruitghostie



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Asexual Character, Bathing/Washing, Coming Out, Cuddling & Snuggling, Date Night, Domestic, Gender Neutral Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), Genderqueer Character, Lipstick, M/M, Making Out in the Bentley (Good Omens), Non-Sexual Intimacy, Reading Aloud, Supportive Boyfriend Crowley (Good Omens), The Ritz, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, deuteranopia, lazy kisses, this is soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-09 03:10:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19880635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grapefruitghostie/pseuds/grapefruitghostie
Summary: Sometimes, when they go to a really nice restaurant, Crowley likes to get dolled up for his angel.





	Closer To Me

Crowley paced around their flat, looking for those damned heels. He could have _sworn_ they were around here somewhere.

"Looking for these, dear?" Aziraphale asked from behind him. He smiled at his partner, who was holding a pair of black heels with red soles. Those were the ones. 

"Has anyone ever told you, you're an angel?" Crowley hummed and they managed a chuckle. 

"Once or twice, yes," they teased, kissing Crowley on the cheek as to carefully avoid his deep red lipstick, "you look beautiful, darling, with your hair curled up."

Crowley smiled earnestly, "why thank you, Zira, you look rather dashing yourself." 

Aziraphale blushed furiously, grateful that their lover picked up on the androgynous look they were attempting tonight. They'd probably never get used to Crowley, but something told them that that was perfectly fine.

Crowley grabbed his shoulder bag from the kitchen counter and put his lipstick in it to touch up when he needed to, and he reached for Aziraphale's hand as they walked outside. The night was warm on Crowley's exposed shoulders and legs; he was grateful for summer nights. He smelled a storm in the air, hoping to anything that it lasted through the night. 

He held the door sweetly for Aziraphale before making his way to the diver's side. He took time to smooth the black dress on his legs before starting the car. Crowley noticed Aziraphale looking at him as he drove, that fond look that they'd had since the Crucifixion, probably, and he reached out for their hand. 

On any other occasion, Aziraphale would have scolded him, telling him to keep both hands on the wheel. But, honestly, they felt so affectionate and touchy and in love that they didn't really mind Crowley driving with one hand right at the moment. 

The two had reservations at the Ritz for nine o'clock, and afterwards they planned on playing cards by the fire. A lazy, rejuvenating night that they both deserved. When Crowley parked the car, he was tempted to kiss his angel senseless although he was unsure why. Something about the air tonight felt good, and he could hardly get enough of Aziraphale's love. 

Aziraphale, as if reading his mind, placed a soft kiss on his lips, trying their damndest to not come back with too much lipstick. 

Crowley cracked a smile when they parted, wiping the red tint off of his lover's lips. "I love you," he said, much too dreamily for a demon to be saying things. 

"As I love you, my dear," Aziraphale agreed, "let's go in, though, before we get into too much trouble." 

"Too much trouble, right," Crowley chuckled, kissing his angels hand and climbing out of the car. He always made a point to circle around and open Aziraphale's door for them, smiling when they blushed happily at the act. 

They ate happily, or, rather, Aziraphale ate happily, for the next hour. Crowley sipped on his champagne and occasionally picked at his lover's cakes. He wasn't as interested in food as Aziraphale was, but he had to admit that it looked good on them. They were all bright smiles and chubby fingers wrapped around their champagne flute and it made Crowley endlessly happy to see them this happy. 

They talked about nothing really and when the waiter brought the check, Aziraphale reached for it. Crowley smacked their hand away lightly; Aziraphale knew that he'd never let them pay, but it couldn't hurt to try. 

"Why must you _always_ pay for the food, dear? I'm the only one who eats!" 

Crowley smiled and, under the dark glasses even, Aziraphale knew the smile stretched to his eyes. "Because, _dear_ , I like buying you things that you enjoy. The same way that you read to me and you let me stay in your flat and you kiss me in the mornings. It's nice to be able to do something for _you_ , angel."

"Oh, but-" Aziraphale started, "but, Crowley you _know_ I do those things because I love you."

"I know that, angel, and I do this because I love you. Its a symbiotic relationship I suppose."

He handed the check back to the waiter and couldn't be bothered to wait for the change. Aziraphale tossed the rest of their champagne back before standing, lacing their fingers with Crowley's as they moved back out to the car. Like clockwork, the demon opened the passenger door for the angel before getting into his side. He was happy to see that it had begun raining already.

"Oh, I noticed you never touched up your lipstick," Aziraphale noted, "you always do after drinking anything." 

Crowley hummed, "Oh, that's just because I wanted to kiss you." 

The angel smiled and did that little body wiggle that meant they were pleased. Crowley would never get over how cute they were, he thought as he leaned into the passenger's side and kissed them sweetly.

The kiss deepened after a moment, and Aziraphale licked into their demon's mouth as their hand came up to rest around his rain-soaked back. Crowley hummed into the kiss, cupping both of Aziraphale's cheeks gently as they tasted each other as if it were for the first time. 

After a few minutes, it was Aziraphale who pulled back for a breath. They placed a little robust hand on Crowley's satin-clad chest and simply said, "We'd better get going, love." 

Crowley nodded, pecking their lips once more, sweetly, and starting up the Bentley. 

As they drove home, hand in hand, Crowley thought absently about the night Aziraphale came out to him as asexual. It was March of 1693, Crowley recalled, silently and to himself, when he started to feel more physical attraction towards Aziraphale.

They'd been partners since a thousand years after Eden, however, Crowley was not one to feel sexually intimate about just anybody. And he knew, Aziraphale wasn't just anybody - no, no, Aziraphale was everything. They were his sun and his stars and everything else.

Crowley remembered them kissing on the couch of a colonial style house in Salem, just as they had been in the car, when the demon stopped to look down at him adoringly. "I love you," he admitted and, even though Aziraphale had known this for centuries, they'd never heard it out loud. They had no idea how to respond other than another kiss.

The demon had only chuckled and kissed the angel's forehead.

"Hey, um, how would you feel about, er, going a bit, uh, further...?" He'd fumbled and looked away from Aziraphale awkwardly. The angel sat up a bit on their elbows and looked a bit unsure of what to say.

"Well, to be honest, tha-um, that's never really crossed my mind," they said sheepishly, as if he even _should_ be embarrassed, "I mean, I, of course, I find you very attractive.. and, um, I care so much for you, dear, I just don't feel that sex is _for me,_ so to speak. I do hope you won't change your mind about me, Crowley."

Crowley hung on every choppy word, reaching out to rub a comforting thumb over their cheek, "Darling, that changes nothing," he smiled, "you're everything and more. We don't have to do anything that you're uncomfortable with. I'm just glad to hold you and kiss you. I love you." 

Aziraphale had looked like they wanted to cry, throwing their arms and legs around Crowley's shoulders and waist happily. "I don't deserve you," they mumbled against his warm neck and then it was _Crowley_ who almost cried.

"Oh, angel, no," he said, pulling back to look into Aziraphale's blue eyes with his yellow ones, "you deserve so much more." 

Before they could argue, Crowley was kissing them again. This kiss was nothing like the previous; it was tender and honest and it spoke the thoughts that neither could put into words. 

"Baby," Aziraphale asked, bringing him back to reality, "where'd you go?" 

Crowley chuckled to himself. They'ed pulled up to the shop but he was still sitting in the car thinking. 

"Sorry, I was at the witch trials," he hummed.

"In Salem?" 

"Yes, my favorite ones."

Aziraphale cracked a smile at their lover's dry humor, but they knew what Crowley meant.

"I often think about that time as well," they admitted, "I was so afraid to tell you that I loved you - I took nearly another century."

Crowley laughed and nodded, "Oh I remember; honestly every moment was worth it because I still get goosebumps when you tell me." 

"I'll never go a day without telling you, my dear." 

Crowley pecked their cheek before pulling them into a tight hug.

"Oh, I don't deserve you," he mumbled into Aziraphale's warm neck and _finally_ he understood what they felt in that moment all those hundreds of years ago. 

"Yes you do," they promised, "come, love, while the rain's slowed a bit." 

This time, Aziraphale was the first out of the car and opening Crowley's door for him. They ran into the bookshop as the storm picked up again, and they were upstairs in the flat in the same moment a loud boom of thunder shook the walls. The flat was cozy, and Crowley loved it much more than the one he'd been living in for the last hundred years.

Aziraphale kept flowers by the windows (that Crowley was surprisingly nice to!) and many a handmade quilt that they no doubt got at farmers markets along the way. It always smelled like vanilla and jasmine when he walked in the front door and most of the colors matched those which they tended to wear in clothes. Or, at least as far as he could tell with deuteranopia. It all looked the same to him. Crowley fell backwards onto the couch, placing his sunglasses carefully onto the coffee table.

"I'm making cocoa, dear, that rain chilled my bones!" Aziraphale called from the kitchen, "Would you like anything?" 

"Red, if we have it," Crowley returned. 

In the other room, Aziraphale made a triumphant noise like they'd found wine that they forgot about before returning to the living room with a glass. 

"Thank you angel, you're too good to me." 

"Oh, Crowley, you don't give yourself enough credit." 

Crowley just smiled at them and changed the subject, "so, shall I get the cards?" 

Aziraphale thought for a moment before shrugging. "I'm actually rather tired," they admitted, "could we skip the game?" 

"Of course, angel," Crowley hummed. 

It wasn't even that supernatural beings _needed_ sleep - but both had just gotten so used to it. Every night Crowley would curl around Aziraphale's body like a snake. They read to him from something that, more often than not, was written by Oscar Wilde. They would sleep through the night all tangled up and it was a beautiful, comforting thing. It was Crowley's favorite time of day.

Sometimes they would shower or bathe together; again, not that supernatural beings _needed_ to bathe, it just felt nice to be that close to one another. Aziraphale loved to wash Crowley's fiery locks because it gave them an excuse at least to touch that beautiful hair. It was Aziraphale's favorite time of the day.

They sipped on the hot drink as they came to the executive decision to do just that tonight. "I think I'm going to run a bath, dear."

Crowley nodded, watching them finish the last of their cocoa and disappear into the scarcely-used bathroom. After he heard the water running for a few minutes, he followed. He snuck up behind the angel and wrapped them in a warm hug, pressing a gentle - yet lingering - kiss to the back of their neck. 

"Hello, love," Aziraphale hummed, "care to join me?" 

"Only if you don't mind." 

"Not a bit, Crowley, you know I love spending this time with you."

Crowley smiled brightly, "As do I, angel."

They both undressed very quickly and unceremoniously. Crowley, setting his glass of wine beside the tub, climbed in first so that the angel could rest back on his chest. They'd both gotten so used to the touching of their bare skin over the past hundreds of years that it didn't even cross either of their minds. Not that it really _ever_ did, but, for the first few years, that had both felt a certain, _'oh, thats another body that feels so warm and it feels like it's supposed to be against mine.'_

It didn't feel quite like that anymore. It felt natural, and if one wasn't there, it wasn't even worth the trouble of running the bath. 

Aziraphale hummed as they relaxed into the warmth of Crowley's skin; and they smiled happily when Crowley reached up to card a gentle hand through their thick curls. They reached over the side of the bathtub for Crowley's wine glass and took a sip before setting it back on the floor without a word. They knew that Crowley wouldn't mind - the two had shared everything for the past four thousand years. 

"It's a damn good thing were not People," Crowley thought aloud after a bit of silence. 

"Why's that?" Aziraphale looked back at him, puzzled and he chuckled. 

"I dunno, I was just thinking how People have to worry about when they can bathe. You know? It's like, we're able to bathe even though it's storming, and we won't get electrocuted. People have to worry about that sort of stuff." 

Aziraphale thought for a moment. Odd, it had never really crossed their mind at all 

"And, I mean," Crowley began again, "I can just snap my fingers and wet our hair," he snapped his fingers just to make the point that now their hair was wet.

Aziraphale nodded seriously, "Yes, I must agree, being a Person would be quite the hassle." 

"It really would." Crowley agreed. 

It fell silent again save for the sound of shampoo rustling in thick, white curls and the soft sigh of Aziraphale's contentedness. The angel relaxed against Crowley's boney fingers and let him work. 

"I love you," they breathed, just grateful to have the littlest moments like these.

"I love you too, angel," Crowley said sweetly, pressing kisses to their shoulder. 

Once he was finished cleaning Aziraphale's hair, Crowley summoned a cup to rinse out the shampoo. He carefully shielded Aziraphale's eyes with one hand and used the other to pour water onto their hair until it was soap-free once more.

The angel sat up, turning to kiss Crowley sweetly before reaching for the shampoo bottle. He hummed happily as Aziraphale's plump fingers worked the curls and the product out of his fiery locks. 

"Do you have any idea how long it took me to curl my hair and get it to stay, darling?" He teased and Aziraphale grinned. 

"Twenty-three minutes," They responded immediately. 

"I actually just meant that as a joke," Crowley admitted, "I never thought you'd be counting."

"Well, when I have to wait around for your beautiful, stunning self to be ready, I have nothing to do but count the minutes." 

"Ever the flirt," Crowley laughed, pretending that it hadn't made him blush. 

"Ever the flirt," Aziraphale agreed.

They reached for the cup that was now floating around in the water, filling it up and using the same amount of care and adoration that Crowley had when rinsing their hair a moment earlier. 

Once their hair washing ritual was complete, the water was turning cool and Aziraphale was growing bored. They stood, stepped onto the blue, plush mat, and reached for a white towel. Crowley followed suit, snapping his fingers and _miraculously_ he was dry. He couldn't be bothered with towels this late in the night, he was ready to be asleep. 

He walked to their shared room while Aziraphale continued to dry the 'human way,' and pulled out a pair of black, satin pajamas. Crowley dressed quickly before laying in bed and bundling up under the blankets. Damn this cold blood, he thought, hoping that his angel-slash-heater would be in soon. 

Much to Crowley's elation, Aziraphale entered the room just as the thought had passed. He smiled at the angel before him, adoring them silently as they dressed in yellow striped pajamas and walked to the other side of the bed.

"Would you read to me?" Crowley asked, almost sheepishly but Aziraphale agreed readily.

They reached for their reading glasses as well as _The Nightingale and The Rose_ , which they had just started reading for the twelfth time on the previous day. 

As they read aloud, Crowley felt his eyes grow heavy as he sunk into Aziraphale's warm embrace. He was fast asleep by the second page, but Aziraphale stayed up quite a bit longer to read their story (read as: watch Crowley snooze peacefully).


End file.
